Tír na nÓg
by RubyContract
Summary: Tír na nÓg- the city of wonders, where young people choose their Vocation at the age of sixteen, determining what they'll do for the rest of their lives. When the time comes, Lovino makes a shocking decision and finds himself spiraling down a path with new people and adventure. But, with success, comes pain. Spamano, PrussiaxNyo!Japan, GerIta, USUK. Other pairings. Fantasy AU
1. The Vargas Brothers

_Tír na nÓg_

_The Vargas Brothers_

**X-x-X-x-X**

Inwardly sighing, Lovino followed his younger brother- Feliciano- down the spacious corridor, the silver censer he held, enveloping him in a heady aroma that made his vision swim. All around them, the Acolytes and the old Priests were whispering, stealing glances at the two brothers. Though their words were drowned out by the choir's song as it seeped through the cracks of the old cathedral, filling all the rooms, Lovino didn't need to hear them to know what they were chattering about.

Choosing Day. The most important day for any sixteen-year old in Tír na nÓg. The day where they would decide what they wanted to do for the rest of their life. It was the day where traditions were kept or abandoned. In about a week, both Feliciano and Lovino would make a decision as to whether or not they wanted to continue down the line of priesthood. But first, they had to explore the city and see all the Vocations at work.

Which would be right after they completed this damned mass.

"Ve, _fratello_," Feliciano said as they drew closer to the music, the unearthly notes reverberating in Lovino's ribcage and striking him with an uneasy feeling.

"What?" Lovino snapped, narrowing his green eyes. Feliciano laughed softly and paused his walk, turning around to face Lovino, the wide, cinnamon eyes that matched his silky hair sparkling with his typical cheeriness.

"Are you excited about what's going to happen after mass?" the younger brother enquired, flashing Lovino a bright smile. Lovino smirked, an action that would've been accompanied by him folding his arms if it weren't for the blasted censer he was holding.

"To be done with those stuffy old geezers and their wretched moaning? _Sì_, I am quite excited," he retorted drily, liberally rubbing his forehead. Feliciano's smile wavered a little, he let out a soft sigh, and tilted his head to the side, the golden cross he wore around his neck swaying with the movement.

"_Fratello, non c'è bisogno di essere così sgradevole_," Feliciano chided gently, trying- but failing- at pretending to be exasperated with his older brother's… "antics". Lovino's upper lip curled back. He snorted.

"I'm tired of it all, _fratellino_. Honestly, I'm looking forward to leaving this hellhole on Choosing Day," the older brother grumbled. Feliciano's eyes widened in dismay, his mouth opened to form a perfect little "o" of horror.

"_Non lo faresti!_," he whispered, shaking his head vigorously- the little curl in his hair, wildly bobbing up and down. Lovino glowered at his younger brother, clenching his teeth together.

"Don't bet on it," he spat out between clenched teeth. Feliciano stared at Lovino, torn between feelings of hurt, anger, and surprise. Sure, the younger brother knew that Lovino had no taste for the mass, or the strict old priests and the stern-faced acolytes, but to _actually _leave? Especially, when Priesthood was the proud tradition of the Vargas bloodline, a duty that they had performed in Tír na nÓg for centuries. Looking at the kaleidoscopic stained-glass windows, the gilded altar illuminated with the soft halo of candlelight, and the arched ceilings decorated with the realistic oil portraits of gentle-faced saints, Feliciano couldn't imagine spending his life anywhere else.

Sure, the life of a Priest could be a bit boring, but it was a fulfilling and noble path. A good one to take. They were protected by the Exorcists, the Farmers adored them, and the Scholars respected them (even if they didn't always agree). The only vocation that really clashed with the Priests, were the Mages, whose teachings often conflicted with the Church's.

It was the only path Feliciano knew.

The music stopped, an eerie silence filling the corridor in its absence. Feliciano shook his head, adjusting his hat, and turned around, the white fabric of his cassock billowing around him. "_Andiamo fratello, _we're late," he muttered. Lovino snorted.

"I don't care," he grumbled as they reached the end of the corridor. His younger brother frowned briefly, before replacing it with a blank expression, and throwing open the heavily-engraved rosewood doors, revealing the liturgical east end- already filled with parishioners and visitors alike. They all turned, ogling at the two brothers with mildly curious expressions.

**X-x-X-x-X**

In front of the altar was a weathered old man- the Archbishop- clad in sumptuous silk robes the color of a fresh snowfall, and heavily brocaded with amber and crimson thread. He stared at the two brothers with a hefty amount of reproach. Catching his eye, Feliciano smiled sheepishly and dipped into a hasty bow.

"Sorry we're late, I know there's no excuse," Feliciano called out, hanging his head to hide the red seeping into his cheeks. A sea of hissing murmurs rose up from the crowd. The blush on the young Priest's cheeks deepened. The Archbishop shook his head, motioning for everyone to be silent.

Silence fell.

"At least you realize that, Feliciano, you may come up here." The old man frowned as Feliciano walked down the aisle. "Where is Lovi-"

Right on cue, Lovino stumbled in drunkenly- the censer swinging from side to side with reckless abandon, the delicate bells that decorated it chiming frantically as they were carelessly knocked against each other. "Right here, pops, this damn incense is giving me a headache and making it hard to walk straight," Lovino drawled, staggering right up to his brother's side.

"_Fratello_…" Feliciano smiled ruefully as more whispers rose from the crowd- these ones scandalized. The Archbishop looked appalled.

"Come up, both of you," the old man groaned, burying his face in his knobbly hands, "and don't do anything without me authorizing it, Lovino," he added sternly as Lovino trudged up the velvet-carpeted carpeted stairs with all the enthusiasm of a dead fish.

"Good thing I took a crap beforehand," Lovino grumbled, scowling viciously. The assembly before them continued to stare with an incredulous expression- at least the visitors. The parishioners were far too used to the eccentric tendencies of the Vargas brothers to get surprised. Hopefully, time would temper the older one, or else the whole church would get condemned to hell.

"That's no way for a future Priest to talk," the Archbishop snapped out of the corners of his mouth as he turned to face the congregation. Lovino deepened his scowl, his eyes flashing with pure, unbridled venom.

"Who says I'm going to be a Priest? I can go somewhere else on Choosing Day."

The old man's head snapped in the elder brother's direction. "Don't be ridiculous, where else can you go? You're hardly a Farmer and you're not cut out to be a Warrior, nor are you careful enough to handle explosives, or any other number of things the other Vocations demand of you!"

Lovino smiled bitterly, "In other words, you have me trapped," he stated in an ugly tone. Feliciano jerked his head back, his eyes wide and pleading.

"_Fratello_, _smettere,_" the younger brother said urgently. Lovino glared darkly at him, alternating his murderous stare between the ancient Archbishop and his young, feminine-faced brother.

"_Sta 'zitto_," Lovino shot back. Feliciano cringed. The older brother lifted his chin and stared defiantly at the Archbishop. "Whether I stay here or not, I will do as I damned well please. Actually, what the fuck am I doing here? I know this shit already. If I do stick around, and if I don't-" he shrugged "-I don't need to know it." The old man's face twisted in rage, he pointed one gnarly finger at the doors.

"Then get out!" he thundered, his face flushing to an ugly puce in a rare display of temper. Lovino sneered, dropping the censer on the ground- the silver cracking, allowing smoldering flecks of incense to scatter across the plush carpet.

"_Felicemente_," he simpered, embellishing his derisive comment with a florid bow before storming out of the room. All eyes followed him out. Feliciano watched him go with a concerned expression, biting his bottom lip. _Fratello… Are you really that miserable? I'm sure it wouldn't be that bad if you just behaved… _He clasped his hands together, quickly glancing back at the portrait of the Virgin Maria painted onto the domed apse in rich metallic golds, and soothing shades of blue and peach.

He inhaled deeply. Surely, his big brother wouldn't leave him. Lovino could be gruff, temperamental, and a bit selfish, but he wasn't heartless enough to abandon his ancestor's legacy and his little brother. Nor, was he brave enough to step out on his own without knowing how deep the waters were. He was fully aware of the fates of those who couldn't complete the Initiation or keep up with their Vocation's expectations. They would be casted out and forced to live a destitute lifestyle in the slums of Tír na nÓg. No one wanted that life.

Feliciano exhaled.

"So…" a male voice piped up, breaking the tense silence that had befallen the room. Everyone turned in the direction of it, straining their necks to catch a glimpse of its owner- a cheerful-looking blonde around sixteen (probably visiting for his Exploration rite) with sky-blue eyes framed by silver-rimmed glasses. The Archbishop grimaced.

"Yes?"

The man pursed his lips together, scratching the back of his head. "I heard there was supposed to be food here, or am I mistaken?" He shook his head, "Naah, it can't be. He definitely did mention something about bread and wine," the blonde muttered under his breath. The Archbishop's jaw dropped.

"Do we look like the Chef Vocation to you?" he asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. The blonde's eyes widened, before fluttering shut.

"Well, what a gyp."

* * *

_Someone needs to take Divergent away from me, as well as all pictures with the Priest Italies, Ducal Prussia, and Prussia x Nyo!Japan. This is like my 3rd story attempt with the Priest brothers, and I really like this one so far! :D Can you guess as to who the blonde at the end was? X3 If you can't, I'll be sad! XD But yeah, the rules of the city will be explained better in the second chapter and we'll be seeing a couple of cameos as well! :D This story is pretty light-hearted as of now, but there is some angst regarding everyone's' favorite, bed-wetting, f-bomb-dropping, tsundere Italian. Will he? Or will he not? _

_I just hope I didn't butcher Feliciano's personality too badly. He's a little more mature and serious in this fic, but in some ways- still the lovable dork we all know. If we ever get to the fasting, you'll be seeing the gluttonous, pasta-loving side of him that we all love. There will be a plot eventually, but as of now, we're going to alternate between various Vocations and characters to get a better understanding of __Tír na nÓg and stuff.  
_

_As for the Catholic Church rituals, no offense to any Catholics at all... and sorry for butchering pretty much everything. This is a fantasy AU, so don't come hunting me down, please?! *Hides in a corner* But yup, remember to R&R! I can't improve without your feedback!_

_Translation notes:_

_Fratello- Brother  
_

_Fratello, non c'è bisogno di essere così sgradevole- Brother, there is no need to be so unpleasant  
_

_Fratellino- little brother_

_Non lo faresti!- You wouldn't!_

_Andiamo fratello- let's go brother_

_Fratello, smettere- brother, stop_

_Sta 'zitto- shut up_

_Felicemente- happily_


	2. Begin Exploring

_Tír na nÓg_

_Begin Exploring_

**X-x-X-x-X**

After a rather disastrous mass, a sighing Feliciano hovered in front of the door to Lovino's bedroom, his hand tentatively floating above the varnished oak. "_Fratello_?" he called out.

"Go away," Lovino grumbled. There was a faint shuffling from behind the door. Feliciano shook his head, his mouth a thin, worried line. He knocked, a gentle _tmp-tmp_, against the wood.

"Get the fuck away," Lovino replied, more viciously this time. The younger brother cringed and took a step backwards, placing a slender hand over the cross that dangled from his neck.

"The Guide is going to be coming any minute now to take us for the Exploration. You need to get ready, that is all," Feliciano stated. He crossed his arms, nervously adjusting his weight, waiting for a response.

"_Va bene, ora lasciare, fratellino_," Lovino shot back. The younger brother heaved a relieved sigh, at least he didn't sound so vicious this time.

"_Sì_," Feliciano said with a nod and turned around, walking down the hall to his own bedroom, his footsteps echoing throughout the spacious corridor.

**X-x-X-x-X**

Bright sunlight and a breeze tinged with the floral scent of violets, geraniums, roses, and lilies greeted Feliciano as he closed his bedroom door behind him. Shimmering gossamer curtains fluttered with the playful wind as it gently gusted in through the open window. Softly smiling, the young priest strolled over to the window and looked down- gazing at the verdant garden sprawled out below him. Amongst the fuchsia dahlias and mauve irises, a couple of Priests wandered around, silently admiring the beauty of the Cathedral's garden.

With an exuberant smile and a cheery "_Ciao_!" Feliciano waved at them. Surprised, the old men looked upwards, shielding their eyes from the sun's glare. Seeing the young Priest, they beamed and returned his greeting.

"How's it going?" the Priest on the left asked, his wispy silver hair swaying in the wind. Feliciano chuckled, resting his elbows on the windowsill.

"It's been a bit rocky so far, but I'm more than confident that the rest of the day will go well!" the young Priest replied. Both of the old Priests shook their head, looking rather amused.

"So we've heard. How is your _fratello _faring after his meltdown with the Archbishop?" the one of the right stated, clucking his tongue with a certain amount of disapproval. Feliciano's smile wavered. He drew back slightly, taking his elbows off the windowsill.

"He's rather surly about it," Feliciano answered with a tristful sigh.

"In other words, he just fine," the Priest on the right retorted, rather drily. The other Priest snapped his gaze to him, his watery grey eyes widened in shock.

"Luca! _Tenere la lingua_!" he snapped, scowling at the other man. Feliciano smiled ruefully, placing his hands on the windowsill and looking up at the sky, rolling his eyes. He was far too aware of Lovino's reputation to be really fazed about the other Priests' biting remarks about his older brother's behavior, and it really didn't bother him quite as much as it used to...

"Yes, please. He is still a human, and as such, has his own faults. Same as you, _Signore_ Luca. What was it that God said about judging other people?" Feliciano chastised, folding his arms and giving the older Priest a slight frown.

It still warranted a lecture, though.

Luca hung his head, rather abashed at being scolded by a mere child. "_Scusate_," he mumbled. Feliciano nodded his head, giving the old man a reassuring smile.

"No, it's fine. As I said, we have our own faults."

"Indeed," the other Priest said tersely, shooting Luca a dirty look. Luca glared at him, his wrinkles deepening. Seeing the black look, the other old man rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Feliciano. "Isn't today a big day for you, by the way?" he asked, cocking a curious eyebrow.

Feliciano laughed and waved his hand in an airy gesture, "Ve, indeed it is!" he exclaimed, grinning broadly. The Priest smiled, shaking his head amusedly.

"Should you not be getting ready for it?"

"Damn right he should," a churlish voice snarled to Feliciano's right. Startled, the young Priest jerked his gaze in the direction of the voice, to find Lovino glowering at him; dressed in a simple white tunic that came down to his mid-thighs, red woolen leggings, and ankle-high leather boots.

"Ve! _Fratello_!" Feliciano yelped, hastily stepping back from his scowling older brother. Lovino snorted and folded his arms, cantering his hips sassily.

"Dammit, _si idiota_!" Lovino stormed. Feliciano paled, taking another step back. "You come and harass me about getting ready, but when the Guide actually arrives, I come find you not even changed yet!" he continued, his face twisted in a murderous expression. Feliciano's jaw dropped.

"Th-the G-guide? H-he's… h-here?" Feliciano stammered, looking at Lovino with a mixture of horror and confusion. The older brother hissed and nodded his head vigorously, baring his teeth as his scowl deepened.

"You heard me, _stupido_!"

"V-veee!" Feliciano cried, rushing over to his closet and throwing the doors open. Carelessly throwing clothes on the floor, he stripped down to his underwear with lightning speed. Lovino watched him with an incredulous expression.

"_Incredibile_…" he muttered under his breath while Feliciano hopped across the room, struggling to pull his leggings up. Hurriedly, his younger brother slipped his tunic over his head, messing up his hair and slapped the belt across his waist, securing it in a lopsided fashion.

"L-let's go!" Feliciano yelped, grabbing a small leather satchel and scrambling out of the room. Lovino smirked, following him down the hall.

**X-x-X-x-X**

"Ve! Sorry we're late!" Feliciano babbled as he skidded to a halt in the entrance hall. The Guide- a mild-looking man in his fifties with wavy brown hair and warm hazel eyes flecked with gold- smiled and shook his head, stepping to the side to reveal the other people accompanying him. A young man with silver-white hair and cool violet eyes, and the blonde from the mass, stared at the Vargas brothers.

"I saw you two today!" the blonde exclaimed, flashing both of them a goofy grin. Feliciano shook his head, looking rather embarrassed. "Nice show, both of you!" he continued, blue eyes sparkling with a giddy enthusiasm. Lovino stared at the blonde, disgusted, a vein in his forehead throbbing.

"Alfred," the Guide sighed. The blonde turned towards the older man, tilting his head with a puzzled expression. The Guide stared at Alfred for a moment, his mien serious, before saying "Shut up."

Alfred turned away, pouting. The silver-haired male snorted, blowing his bangs out of his eyes and held his hand out to the Vargas brothers. "I'm Emil Steilsson, currently of the Keeper Vocation," he said rather formally. "I'm currently doing my Exploration Right, just like you two are about to do."

Lovino curtly nodded, but Feliciano beamed and threw his arms around Emil, hugging him. "I'm Feliciano Vargas of the Priest Vocation!" he informed zealously. Emil deadpanned and pried himself away from the overly-friendly Feliciano.

"And you?" Emil enquired, aiming his question at Lovino, who snorted and shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

"Not much of a talker is he?" Alfred observed, adjusting his glasses. "He wasn't this way during the service." The Guide groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"I still can't believe you actually went and did that."

Alfred smiled lazily, brushing the comment away. "But really," he said, turning to Lovino. "What _is _your name?" Lovino glowered at him, but otherwise, remained tight-lipped as ever. Feliciano sighed and held his hand out, gesturing at his brother.

"This is my _fratello_, Lovino Vargas. He's currently in the Priest Vocation as well," he stated, his eyelids fluttering shut before opening. A warm smile crossed the Guide's face.

"So, the Priests will be getting two Vargas's this year? I'm sure they're happy… The difficulty of their Initiation finally seems to be hitting the Vocation hard," the Guide mused. "We all knew it would come to this day," he continued, "between the Mages and the Priests, most of the young ones who have the ability to continue oftentimes pick the Mage Vocation-"

"I can fucking see why," Lovino snarled, "and who says I'm becoming a true Priest?" he added vehemently. The Guide stared blankly at the older brother.

"But aren't you a Vargas?"

Lovino let out a hollow laugh. "Just because my family has been doing it since before the invention of the wheel, doesn't mean I have to do it. I certainly don't enjoy hearing all those old farts ramble-"

"_Fratello, smettere_," Feliciano mewled, clutching his brother's arm. Lovino hissed and attempted to rip himself free from his younger brother's grip, but Feliciano held fast. "I'm sorry," the younger brother laughed feebly- his attention diverted back to the other three. "He has his days where he thinks about leaving, but he'll get over it soon enough."

Lovino rolled his eyes, finally yanking his arm away from Feliciano. "One good Vocation will be all that it takes," he muttered in an undertone.

"So..." Alfred trailed, sticking his hands in his pockets. Everyone stared expectantly at him, waiting for the next stupid thing to fly out of his mouth. Much to their surprise, it was a simple and reasonable question.

"So, what's the next Vocation?" the blonde asked, raising his eyebrows. The Guide nodded his head and adjusted his suit's collar.

"Well, I have a kid from the Farming Vocation to pick up, so that is where we'll be visiting," the man replied. Lovino _hmphed_, Emil nodded wordlessly, and Feliciano bobbed his head up and down eagerly.

"_Va bene!_"

**X-x-X-x-X**

The Farmer's District, located near the bottom of the multi-leveled city of Tír na nÓg, was a vast expanse of fertile land, dotted by charmingly rustic log houses. A bright sun shone down on the small group as they navigated their way down a winding gravel road, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

All around them, people were working- scything the wheat, plucking tomatoes off the vine, and tilling the soil. Dressed in tattered denim, they appeared more than a little weathered, yet, they were still happy. Lovino looked upon them with a guarded interest. It seemed like a fairly pleasant Vocation, but they were tanned and burly from working in the fields and their clothes were a sorry state. He remembered hearing that while Farming was one of the harder Vocations to get kicked out of- as long as you met the city's quota, you were good- they were also a poor Vocation.

"Here we are," the Guide announced, stopping in front of a tipsy-looking two story cottage with stone walls and several fat brown chickens milling about in the yard. Emil and Feliciano stared at the chickens with fascination, never before, have they seen a chicken in person. Lovino crinkled his nose as he watched a chicken poop.

The door flew open before the Guide got a chance to knock. A blonde male with abnormally thick eyebrows and lime-green eyes stood in the doorway, his tweed suit rather rumpled and a scowl etched onto his face. "No! You can't come, Pete!" he roared, his head snapping back to deliver the message.

"You jerk!" A young kid with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes stormed up to the green-eyed man, his face as red as a tomato.

"Sorry about this," the older blonde sighed to the small Exploration group before turning to face his younger brother. "You can't come because you're not old enough, Pete," he snapped, bending over to poke the child on the forehead. "Now, why don't you go harass David or John?"

Pete pouted, crossing his arms. "They're too busy with work to be bothered with me!" he retorted bitterly. His older brother snorted and placed his hands on the young boy's shoulders.

"Then go help them, you ninny," he said and turned Pete around, giving him a gentle push in the back. The young boy stood there for a moment, sulking, then turned around, sticking his tongue out at his older brother before reluctantly trudging away.

"Once again, my sincerest apologies for that little git's behavior," the Farmer grumbled, placing a hand on his head and inhaling deeply. The Guide shook his head, appearing rather amused.

"It's all fine, we've seen worse."

Lovino huffed petulantly, murmuring something under his breath.

The Farmer grimaced and held his hand out. "I'm Arthur Kirkland of the Farmer Vocation, though I do hope to become a Mage." He smiled at the last word. Feliciano frowned and took a step back. "What?" Arthur snapped, narrowing his eyes at the Priest.

"They're both Priests, dude," Alfred chimed in, eagerly grabbing the Farmer's hand and shaking it vigorously. Arthur gaped incredulously at the group. "So yeah, they'd like hate your guts if you became a Mage," he continued.

Arthur snorted and pulled free from Alfred's grip. Feliciano sighed, "We wouldn't hate you… We'd just-"

"Disagree with everything you say," Lovino continued drily with a dark smirk on his face. The younger brother sighed, throwing his hands up to the heavens.

"Don't mind them," the Guide said, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder and guiding him outside. "The tension between the Priests and the Mages are not nearly as bad as other Vocations make it out to be," he said, shooting both Lovino and Alfred a warning look.

Lovino, of course, ignored him. "Not by too much," he drawled. "I mean, there was the war between them-"

"Which was three hundred years ago," the Guide snapped, a dark shadow crossing his normally-kind face.

"-Not to mention," Lovino plowed on, "Just two weeks ago, the Archbishop received a letter from the High Mage, addressed to the Pope, demanding access to the Sanctum Ruins, and threatening to take it to the Council if the request was denied." A humorless laugh escaped Lovino, "Man… The old geezer went ballistic and sent the Mages an equally nasty letter, mind you, it was all very polite and friendly… for a subtle death threat. Talk about friendship and acceptance."

The Guide scowled, clapping a hand on Lovino's shoulder and squeezing it. "Ow!" Lovino yelped. "What the hell, old man?" He slapped the Guide's hand. Feliciano cleared his throat nervously, turning towards Arthur.

"Really, it wasn't that bad… Those sort of things don't happen too much," he said hastily. Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Well, my family may respect the Priests for their blessings, but I truly don't care either way," he retorted drily. Lovino snickered, rubbing the back of his head.

"You really shouldn't," he snarked, earning a withering death glare from the Guide. Feliciano slumped his shoulders, covering his face with his hands.

"So, what do you do each day in the Farming Vocation?" Emil piped up, mercifully changing the topic. Arthur snorted, rumpling his already messy hair, and gave his house a deprecating look. Everyone stared eagerly at him, waiting for a response. Arthur stole a glance at the Guide, who nodded in return.

"I don't know if I can explain it really well, since I particularly dislike my current Vocation," the Farmer sighed, "but, we pretty much farm during the day to provide food for the city, and then at night, we unwind and tell stories and hang out with our family." He looked away, furrowing his brow, "I particularly hate the night," he continued, "my brothers make it a hell for me. Pete's not _too _bad, but he's still a cheeky little twat. Mercifully, Patrick- the one who pranked me all the time- left for the Brewer Vocation, but John and David decided to stay." He rubbed his forehead, "They're incredibly bossy and condescending, and always find a way to make me feel like an outcast."

"So, you're a lonely and jealous child who is suffering from angst, 'cause no one likes you?" Alfred enquired. Everyone turned to face him, their expression ranging from shocked to plain murderous. "What?" Alfred's eyes widened in confusion, "I was just asking a question! What did I say?"

"Are you slow or something?" Lovino asked with an incredulous note to his voice. Alfred stared dubiously at the Priest. Arthur's eyes flashed, throwing white-hot daggers of pure hate at the blonde. Alfred cringed, taking a step back from the Farmer.

"If I had a pitchfork, I would stab you right now," Arthur snarled, his eyebrows crashing downwards.

"Huh?"

"I need to pick up another person at the Marine Vocation, so we need to go," the Guide interjected, giving Alfred a venomous scowl.

"Seriously dudes, what did I do?" Alfred queried, his voice rising in pitch. Feliciano and Emil remained silent, their expressions impassive. Lovino snickered and the Guide growled lowly. Arthur, however, answered.

"You did _everything_," he spat.

* * *

_And that concludes ch2 of this lovely little story! Poor Alfred… he really can't keep his mouth shut, meanwhile… Feliciano is thinking something along the lines of "Getting real tired of your shit, bro," but he's too polite and sweet to say it aloud. The Guide is currently struggling not to murder Lovino and Alfred, while Emil (Lovely little Iceland) is all cool and composed and just going like, "What?" And of course, Arthur has an adorably dysfunctional relationship with his little bro- Peter, and all sorts of fluff abounds! XD _

_I think I'm butchering Lovino… I really believe I am… He's a lot more dry and sarcastic than normal (I think)... But...I don't know. Now, you're probably wondering why Arthur isn't in a Vocation related to ships… I just wanted to make the dude's brothers a bunch of Farmers, ok? Just wait until you see Poland next chapter… (I really wanted to introduce him this chapter, but I'm way too lazy. Trust me, it's pretty hilarious and cringe-worthy) _

_What have I done? _

_Anyways, thanks to all the people who have faved, followed, and reviewed this story! I'm really enjoying the Hetalia archives! The people here are nice and supportive and some of the stories are quite incredible! _

_Reviewer replies:_

_randomobsession123: Of course I'll update! Here you go!_


	3. What Have I Done?

_Tír na nÓg_

_What Have I Done?!_

**X-x-X-x-X**

The shipyard was rife with swearing and the pounding of hammers, as the Exploration Group navigated their way through the chaotic maze of bodies and wooden stocks. Rough-tongued men clothed in tattered sailor-uniforms and oversized, striped tee-shirts swarmed all around them. Barely audible over the chaos was the blaring of ship horns and the shrill cries of startled seagulls. The fetid odor of fish clashed with the salty tinge of sea air, creating a noxious perfume that made everyone crinkle their nose.

"What exactly does the Marine Vocation do again?" Alfred practically screamed over the pandemonium surrounding them. The Guide held a hand to his ear, indicating that he couldn't hear him. Alfred sighed, shaking his head in exasperation before trying again.

"WHAT DOES THE MARINE VOCATION DO?" He screeched so loudly that everyone around them fell silent, turning their curious eyes towards Alfred. Arthur sighed, his nostrils flaring. After a few seconds of awkward silence, the people around them turned to each other and resumed their conversations. Gradually, the babbling chatter returned to its previous volume.

"Don't you know anything, you twat?" he snipped. Of course, his words were washed away by the sea of noise enveloping them. Alfred stared expectantly at the Guide, however, it was Emil who answered.

"The Marine Vocation takes care of anything involving the Sea- whether it be handling trade with other cities, fishing, or transportation," he explained in a quiet voice that forced everyone to lean in closer. Feliciano stared at him with wide-eyed amazement.

"Wow! You know a lot, ve!"

Lovino shot him a withering glare, making Felicianoblanch at the malice in his eyes. Everyone else took an unconscious step back, in case Lovino started to sprout horns and grow wings, or something along those lines. "H-huh?" Feliciano tilted his head, looking confused. The Guide cleared his throat, stealing a hasty glance at his wristwatch.

"We should make haste and head over to the docks, Feliks is waiting for us."

**X-x-X-x-X**

A shimmering turquoise sea expanded endlessly towards the horizon. Ships of all types- ornate yachts emblazoned with the crests of wealthy families, sturdy wooden cargo ships, and intimidating steel-clad war vessels- sailed into the harbor, stopping at the docks.

The crewmen were a plague of locusts, teeming all over the ships with a fervid intensity. Loading and unloading with a frightening single-mindedness. Standing out in a crowd of burly middle-aged men with beer bellies and scar-faced teenagers, was a lovely, well-dressed (for someone in the Marine Vocation), blonde female, with green, almond-shaped eyes the color of spring grass, and a lanky man with a shaggy mop of carroty-red hair and a splash of freckles across his face. He rested a hand on a wooden keg next to him, letting it support his weight.

Seeing the redhead, Arthur let out an anguished groan and stepped behind the Guide. Confused, the Guide craned his gaze in Arthur's direction. "Patrick," he mumbled, narrowing his eyes. "I didn't think he would be here…" he added, his face twisted in distaste.

"Like, give that beer to the hands, ye landlubber!" the blonde stated imperatively, pointing a finger at the wooden beer keg that Patrick was casually leaning on. He laughed, running a finger through his messy locks.

"Aye, aye, Ca'ain!" He chuckled and gave the blonde a patronizing salute, brutally butchering the common tongue with a thick accent and extensive letter-dropping. She snorted, folding her arms and flinging him an irritated stare.

"Like, don't make me totally keelhaul ye, or something like that ye scallywag," she snapped, pursing her lips into a thin line.

"Alrigh', alrigh'," he sighed with mock-annoyance and hefted a keg over his shoulder. "I'll 'liver 'is 'eg to them 'ailors." He walked away from her, flagging down a muscular sailor with a foul expression.

Arthur heaved a relieved sigh, as Patrick and the sailor boarded a ship, wiping his brow. "So, it's that bad for you?" Alfred eagerly enquired, patting Arthur on the shoulder. Arthur furrowed his brow, shooting Alfred a look that all too clearly screamed "Shut-up, or I'll strangle you with the first piece of rope I can find".

"That blonde is kind of cute," remarked Feliciano, grinning broadly at Lovino.

Lovino smirked and folded his arms. "She's mine," he affirmed, glaring at Feliciano as if he dared him to say otherwise. Feliciano sighed, slumping his shoulders.

"_Perché, fratello_?"

"Excuse me, miss!" the Guide called out, waving his arm wildly to attract the blonde's attention. She stiffened, as if an electric shock had shot through her, and swiveled her head in their direction. The Guide motioned for her to come over. She rolled her eyes, flipping her hair sassily and sauntered over to them.

"Like, is there something ye want me for? It better be like, totally urgent or something, lest I'll be having ye swab the poop deck. I'm waiting for someone, who is, like, totally important, and if ye muck this up-"

The Guide held his hand up, cutting off the blonde's rant.

"Are all people in this Vocation this weird?" Alfred queried, alternating his stare between the six of them. The blonde huffed indignantly, placing both hands on her hips.

"Don't, like, make me, throw ye overboard, or something like that," she snapped, chucking mental daggers at him.

"Please do," Arthur snarked sardonically, his lips twisted into a humorless smile. Alfred gave him a horrified look. The Guide shook his head, burying his head in his hands.

"Are you sure you still want her, _fratello_?" Feliciano whispered to Lovino. He chortled lowly, cocking his head to the left.

"_Bel tentativo_."

"Well, I do apologize," the Guide bowed respectfully, "but we're looking for a young man named Feliks Łukasiewicz, have you seen him?" The blonde's eyes widened and she bobbed her head up and down.

"Aye aye, matey! That'd be, like, totally me, ye all seek!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

Everyone's reactions were widely varied to say the least.

Alfred's jaw dropped, his eyes as wide as cantaloupes. Arthur sighed, shaking his head and muttering something in a dark undertone. Emil raised his eyebrows, carefully scrutinizing the blonde, as if trying to determine if the person before him was a legit guy. Feliciano's mouth opened into a perfect little "o", while Lovino looked outright horrified. The Guide stared dubiously at the blonde, his expression guarded.

"Please, if this is your idea of a joke, it's not funny," he sighed, liberally rubbing his temples.

The person who allegedly called himself "Feliks", snorted, pouting childishly at the baffled group. "But I really am Feliks! I, like, totally have the necessary parts!" he insisted, clapping his hands together.

The Guide continued to stare at the blonde with a dubious expression.

"Yeah, pops, he' a legit 'uy."

Arthur groaned loudly, hanging his head. His interest piqued, Alfred turned in the direction of the voice.

Patrick was strolling towards them, with his hands in his pockets, and a wicked smile as wide as Yulemas on his face. Arthur looked up, glowering at the heavens as if it was all their fault. "Oh, an' it's my 'uss-faced br'ther as 'ell!" Patrick cat-called, waving a hand in an overly-cheery greeting.

"Bloody wanker…" Arthur grumbled, clenching his hand into tight fists. Patrick snickered, strolling over to Arthur and flinging an arm over his shoulder.

"So, time for ya' Choosin' Day, no?" He smirked, tightening his arm. Arthur growled, ripping himself free from Patrick and giving him a good shove. "Oi!" cried Patrick, shoving Arthur in retaliation.

"Go back to the brewery, you git!" Arthur shouted, ramming his foot into Patrick's ankle. Patrick howled in rage, bending over to clutch at his ankle. Arthur promptly raised his fist, about ready to shove it into Patrick's face, but was stopped by Alfred.

"Bloody hell, what do you think you're doing?" Arthur snarled, snapping his menacing glare to Alfred.

"Seriously, dude? Not cool!" Alfred ardently shook his head, meeting Arthur's hostile gaze with a serious face. "No matter how annoying your siblings are, you don't just beat up on them!" he continued.

"I' 'ike 'o 'iffer," Patrick piped up. Alfred narrowed his eyes, placing a finger over his lips.

"Really? You're not helping, at all."

Patrick snickered, lazily flexing his shoulders. With a warning look, Alfred released Arthur. Growling, Arthur stepped away from him, radiating a poisonous malice. The Guide sighed in relief, placing a hand over his heart.

"'O, 'en ya' ca'erpilla's 'onna 'oom in'o 'utterflies?" lipped Patrick.

Smart move.

"You blasted arsehole!" Arthur shrieked, lunging at him. Patrick cackled, sidestepping Arthur's attack and kicking him in the ass. With a startled cry, he crashed into the ground.

"E'ic 'ail," Patrick sneered, leaning over the dazed Arthur.

Arthur staggered to his feet, his face cut and his palms scraped, mumbling a vehement stream of obscenities under his breath. "Git… twat… wanker… fucker… arse… cunt…nitwit… Blooming murderer of the common tongue." His words sizzled, hissing like a drop of oil on a frying pan. His eyes smarted from the pain, bile coating his mouth in a foul taste.

"That's no way to treat your younger brother," Feliciano chimed, his Priest instincts kicking in. Patrick snorted, giving him a "I don't give two-fucks" look. Feliciano shook his head in reply, looking away from Patrick with a rueful smile.

"Like, are ye just, gonna be, like, totally ignoring me? 'Cause if ye are, I'll just, like, book another Guide." Feliks let out a loud, indolent sigh, rolling his eyes, and appearing rather bored. The Guide frowned, his eyes narrowing into little slits.

"No, it'll only be another minute." He turned towards Patrick. "May I ask what you are even doing here?" Patrick shrugged, flipping his hair with a toss of his head.

"This lad, was just, like, delivering some, booze, for the hands. They, get like, all 'scupper that!' and it, get's to be, like, a pain." Feliks tilted his head to the side, his expression thoughtful. "Though, I guess, it's like, those scallywags are a total pain either way. 'Cause then, they get, like, all loaded to the gunwalls, and that's totally not good."

Patrick smirked, raising his chin. "Ya', 'east 'ey 'ay 'ood," he remarked airily.

The Guide sighed, glimpsing down at his wristwatch, agitatedly tapping his foot against the stone pavement. "Well, since you're here, can you at least briefly explain the Brewer Vocation to this group? We're running behind our schedule and if we show up too late, I'll be sure to hear it from Axel!"

Patrick flippantly shrugged and adjusted his weight. "Ya', 'ure." He slid his gaze around, his shamrock-green eyes narrowed as they lingered on Arthur for just a mere second longer than the others. The hostility was clear between the two. Without thinking, Alfred grabbed Arthur's hand, only to have it slapped.

"Don't touch me, you git," he hissed in between clenched teeth. Alfred sucked in his cheeks, irritated at Arthur's hostility. Ok, so maybe he shouldn't have opened his mouth back at the Farmer's District, but seriously. Arthur was blowing it _way_ out of proportion. He sure as hell wouldn't bite _his _head off if he made a tactless remark. Sure, he'd be a little sore… but forgive and forget, right?

"'Asi'lly, 'e brew 'irits 'or 'e 'eople o' 'ír na 'Óg." Patrick scratched behind his ear, shifting around absentmindedly. "An'one 'o or'ers 'ome 'ooze an' is 'egal, 'an usuall' 'uy a 'int or 'o. In 'urn, it's 'onated 'o the 'demy, 'ere 'e 'each 'uture 'ewers. 'Etty 'imple 'uff," he explained in a matter-of-fact tone.

The Guide nodded appreciatively. "That's a rather brief and simple-"

"What do you expect from someone with his intelligence level?" Arthur muttered under his breath. Patrick scowled, but other than that, Arthur was largely ignored.

"-explanation, but it'll have to do. Come on." The Guide motioned at his group. "We'll be leaving to pick up Ludwig Beilschmidt for his Exploration." He shuddered, suddenly appearing rather disconcerted. "I just hope his father doesn't chew me out for being late."

Lovino groaned inwardly, outwardly sulking, as the group navigated their way out of the Marine District. Great. Just fucking _great_. The cute girl he wanted to ask out was actually a gender-confused she-man (seriously, what guy wore fucking silk flowers in their hair?). Not to mention, _that dialect_. If Feliks seriously didn't make up his mind and choose either the valley or the sea, some bitch was going to get punched. Especially since she wasn't a cute girl anymore, to balance out her obnoxious way of speaking. She was actually a "he" and an annoying one to boot.

Pirate-valley girl-boy?

What. In. Fucking. Hell. Was. This. Shit?

* * *

_Chapter title says all… I'm not going to apologize for Valley-girl pirate Poland and fail-cockney-accent Ireland. Nor am I apologizing for the seemingly-random tangent of Lovino's at the end. I will say, I was laughing as I wrote this chapter. I can only imagine the angry mob that will be coming after me for an OOC Poland. _

_But hey! Germany and (possibly) Nyo! Japan, alongside Hungary and Germania will be popping up next chapter! Let us gather our insane crew and scream at the top of our lungs! _

_I'm just waiting for my evil streak to kick in and sucker-punch all of you, guys! :3 _

_If I had to pick a song that catches this story, I'd choose the Vocaloid Mash-up of Antichlorobenzene x Paradichlorobenzene because it catches the overall dynamic that will be occurring with the Vargas brothers (Even though they were relatively mute this chapter). I fawkin LOVE that song (Despite the long-ass name) So, give it a listen when you can! _

_I also noticed what a ginormous idiot I was in ch2 by forgetting the translation notes, so… I'll get around to fixing that! Speaking of translation notes… (So I don't forget)_

_Perché, fratello_?- _Why, brother?_

_Bel tentativo- Nice try._

_Patrick's cockney accent- Not even going to try… Good luck! *Troll face* _

_Now, thanks to all the people that followed this story! Also, my reviewers! Here are your replies!_

_Aquanova dragon- :3 I'm glad you love this concept! XD As for making me finish… I'll try! If only because I got a ton of epic shet in store for this story! And Divergent… I have! (But Allegiant was a disappointment to me, especially after the first 2 books which were really good)_

_WinterSpirit13- That's good… Because I know Poland is going to haunt me for the rest of my days… XDD I'm glad that you liked it and found it interesting!_

_Rosamanelle- *Le gasp* How could you! Naah… It's all cool, k? Well… I'm not going to say anything about Choosing Day, but this is only loosely (very loosely) based on Divergent. There are similar elements, but for the most part… Pretty different. You gave me an idea to make Poland even more effed up than I already made him… If I wind up dead 'cause of Poland… I'll be holding you responsible XDD Yeah… Alfred is pretty rude, but he has the best intentions! :3 Between Alfred and Feliks… Well… I didn't have them really interact, 'cause that would result in your face turning red from all the epic face-palming XD _


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